what a joke, omar thought sadly.
harold glared at him from across the room.
neither of them were as young as they used to be.
nora glanced from one to another of them.
i would have thought, nora pondered morosely, that they would finally have forgotten their fatuous feud.
but what did she know?
heavyweight mugthumps were what they were.
it did not matter if they were eight weeks old or eighty-eight years old.
omar shuffled across the room toward harold.
after all, it was omar’s elephant who was ultimately the cause of the whole affair.
harold stood stock still under the chandelier.
it was time, thought dr thornwall from beside the door, to take a stand.
what the devil are you up to? dr thornwall demanded sharply of omar.
i don’t get your grift, omar replied superciliously.
the phrase is get your drift, you confounded idiot, dr thornwall retorted.
no need to get excited, omar responded softly in his turn.
i don’t want any monkey business, dr thornwall muttered stiffly.
all the while, harold was tapping his foot furiously.
nora quickly sized up the situation with her unerring feminine instinct.
omar laughed, a great booming horse laugh which immediately put everybody at their ease.
let’s all have a drink, nora suggested brightly.
this time her diplomacy worked wonders.
i suggest a game of darts, harold intoned, after we have all had a drink of course.
the suggestion was quickly and eagerly adopted.
suddenly they remembered roger, who was supposed to be the guest of honor, but who had not yet arrived.
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